The Keepers of the Trees
by Macilwen
Summary: A retelling of the Tale of the Two Trees, actually based more on The Book of Lost Tales 1 than the Sil, but ah well.
1. The Choosing of Tilion

This story has been brewing in my mind for some time, so I judge that it's high time that I let it out. Here's the disclaimer: I believe that Christopher Tolkien owes everything and everyone in this story except Puigion, Duidil, Silorë, and Noldarel. I own them! Yay!!

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Oromë had called all his hunters together. There was a long line of them, all the way from young Silorë to old Noldarel. Oromë paced up and down this line. He said, "Yavanna is to attempt to make sources of light to replace the Lamps that, through Melkor's treachery, have been destroyed. The sources are to be in the shape of trees. She has asked me to pick one of you to be the Keeper of one of these Trees. This is a great honour and a very serious job. This tree is take up your whole life. Which of you shall volunteer?" He stopped pacing as three of his hunters came forward: Tilion, Puigion, and Duidil. "Why do you wish to be the Keeper of the Tree, Tilion?"

The dark-haired youth answered in his clear ringing voice: "I wish to serve Milady in any capacity possible, and, as you know, --" he blushed "--I'm not so great at hunting." Most of the hunters laughed, and Tilion grinned good-naturedly. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of a burden to you, Milord, and by tending the Tree, I hope to earn my keep."

Oromë applauded. "Very noble reasons, my dear! Puigion, why would you like to be the Keeper of the Tree?" he asked, wondering why in Valinor Puigion would want to care for the Tree. He was a stickler for cleanliness, and, to Oromë, tending a Tree didn't sound very clean.

"Hunting is to dirty a sport," said Puigion in his fussy way. "Too much blood. Trees sound cleaner."

Oromë laughed. "Hmmmmm. Duidil, why would you like to be the Keeper of the Tree?" Duidil was silent. "Duidil, Valinor to Duidil . . . " Oromë said. The hunters laughed.

That did the trick. Duidil jolted awake. "Wh-what, Milord?" he stammered.

Oromë asked his question again.

Duidil looked sheepish. "Oh, so _that_ was what I was volunteering for. Ummm . . . I dunno." This was typical Duidil for you, never paying attention. Everyone laughed, and Oromë sent Duidil back to his place in disgrace.

"Shall we vote?" asked Oromë. "Or shall I simply decide?"

"Vote!" chorused all the hunters. Tilion looked decidedly nervous.

__

Poor guy, thought Oromë. _He wants so badly to be the Tree-Keeper, but he feels for sure that Puigion will get more votes. _A thought struck him suddenly. _I must remember to tell him that he is most decidedly not a burden._ Having finished his train of thought, he said, "Well, let the voting commence. Who believes that Puigion should be the Keeper of the Tree?" Only a few of the hunters raised their hands. _Well then, I suppose Tilion wins, _he thought. _But just to be fair . . . _"And who thinks that Tilion should be the Keeper of the Tree?" he asked. All the rest of the hunters raised their hands, a majority by far. 

Oromë watched as Tilion looked, amazed, looked out into the forest of hands. Oromë's grin almost matched Tilion's when Tilion realized he had won. Oromë announced, "It appears that Tilion is the Keeper of the Tree!" Cheers erupted from the hunters.

Tilion was still in a state of mild shock. "I didn't know I had this many friends," he whispered to Oromë.

Oromë whispered back, "We are all your friends. I shall come for you when it is time for the Making. You'll be at the Gardens of Lorien, right?" Tilion nodded gratefully and quietly slipped off. Oromë turned back to the hunters. "Gathering dismissed!"

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More later!!!! And yes, it most definitely is romance. The girl just hasn't entered the story yet. It will be continued after I get a couple reviews.


	2. The Choosing of Arien

Screw that about the reviews! Going on to continue! (bit redundant but ah well!)

Ah yes, almost forgot the note by Mac. Note by Mac: Both Tilion and Arien and everyone else in this story (until we get to the Elves and Ungoliant, but we're not there yet) are spirits that have taken a form that best suits their temperament. That may explain a few things, especially with this part.

Christopher Tolkien owns everyone except Annariel and "another handmaiden". Cool!

So it begins! --something from TTT movie, Battle of the Hornburg, possibly?

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In a different part of Valinor, a few hours later, the same thing happened with Vanà's handmaidens. All the maidens clustered in a group about her, hanging on every word the Vala said. "My sister is planning to make sources of light to replace the Lamps Melkor managed to destroy. She asked my husband and me to each pick out, from our most trusted servants, ones who may tend the two Trees."

"Trees?" asked the littlest handmaiden, Annariel. "You didn't say anything about trees."

Vanà sighed, then laughed. "That's right, little gift, I didn't," she said, gently smoothing the young spirit's tangled hair. "The new sources of light are to be trees. Oromë has already chosen one of the tenders --"

"Oh, oh, I know who he is!" piped up another handmaiden. "Tilion!" This caused quite a stir in the group of handmaidens. Tilion was considered very sweet and handsome by the young female spirits.

"Shhhh!" said Vanà. "Anyways, as I was saying, I still need to choose a Keeper of the Tree. Any volunteers?" Every handmaiden's hand shot up. "Okay, okay!! Remember, I can only choose one!" She suddenly remembered the popular opinion of Tilion. "OK, if you're only volunteering because you think Tilion's cute, put your hand down." All of the handmaidens put their hand down except for one. Arien, the most mature of the handmaidens, a spirit of golden fire, left her hand up. Vanà asked her, "Why, Arien?"

Arien replied, "I'd like to try something new. I'm no good at being a handmaiden, and I don't know what else to do. I'd like to be a hunter of Milord Oromë, but that's never going to happen. Tree-tending seems as good as anything."

Vanà nodded and said, "All right. You can be the other Tree Keeper." All the handmaidens immediately flocked to Arien and started bombarding her with questions. "Don't you think Tilion's cute?" "How are you going to tend the Tree?" Vanà smiled and went to rescue the beleaguered young spirit. "We don't want to kill the Tree Keeper with questions with questions, do we? I need to talk to Arien alone. Would you mind leaving, please?" The handmaidens grumbled, but left. "My dear, are you sure you're not going to be a Tree Keeper just because you think Tilion's cute?"

Arien looked offended. "Of course not! I personally don't think that Til's all that cute. The reasons that I gave you are true."

Vanà asked, wonderingly, "Til?"

Arien blushed. "He told me to call him that."

Vanà smiled knowingly. "Ah, I see…"

Arien said, "No, milady, we're just friends. Best friends, at that. He calls me Ari; I call him Til. That's all."

Vanà replied, "All right. I think your young spirit --"

"He's not _my _young spirit!"

"-- is in the gardens of Lorien. Go tell him that you're the other Keeper of the Tree," Vanà continued, unperturbed. Arien nodded and left. Vanà smiled fondly after the spirit and went on about her work.

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There. Fun!!! I have about seven pages handwritten, and this was the second of three completed sections. So that should tell you where I am.

Namarie,

Mac


	3. The Making, part 1

OK. This is when the story _really_ begins! This part is going to be really long and it has an evil cliffhanger!!!! (at least, I think it does. Hmmm…) Disclaimer: The Tale of the Two Trees and everyone and everything encompassed in it belongs to the Tolkien Estates people. There. Certain ideas may be counted as mine, such as the flame and giving-of-yourself, though.

And for purposes of the story, I am only counting the Maiar listed in _The Silmarillion_ as Maiar. Neither Tilion nor Arien are Maiar, for the story's purposes. I don't know if they really are or not.

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Near one of the pools in the gardens of Lorien, there lay a tall, slender youth. His black hair was faintly frosted with silver, not from age but from the temperament of his spirit. The deep, bluish-green eyes matched the needles of the pine tree underneath which he lay. His fingers, long and slender, restrung his silver bow with supple grace. He sat up as a golden spirit walked into his clearing. "Ari?" he asked incredulously. 

"Mae Govannen, Til," said Arien. "Milady Vána let all her handmaidens do as they pleased for the rest of the day.

"So you came here to talk to me?" said Tilion. "Thanks; I needed someone to talk to. And," he added with a glance at a somber figure just out of hearing, "Milord Mandos isn't precisely the most fun person to talk to." They both laughed.

Arien sat down next to Tilion and leaned back on her arms. "What about you? All the other hunters have left with Milord Oromë for a hunting trip. I knew you were here," she said in response to Tilion's questioning glance, "because Milady told me. And I know which clearing is yours."

"But she didn't tell you why?" asked Tilion as he leaned himself back. 

"Not really, Til. So I'm curious. Til, why?" Arien asked.

Tilion laughed. Then he sighed and said, "I'm to be the Keeper of one of the Two Trees that Milady Yavanna is planning to make as a source of light. I'm to --" 

"-- have the Tree take up most of your life and fee time and everything," Arien interrupted, smiling beatifically -- and in Tilion's eyes, maddeningly -- at Tilion.

"How did you know? Did Milady Vána tell you? Who-how-when-" Tilion, exceedingly confused, stammered to a stop.

"Til," said Arien, "I'm to be the other Tree-Keeper." She smiled at Tilion's shocked expression. 

Tilion continued staring at her in shock for several moments, then, grinning, shook his head in exasperation. "I should have known," he said. "That maddening grin should have cued me." He lay down on his back and looked up at the pine needles. "How long do you think before it's time for the Making?"

"Oh, I don't know," answered Arien turning so that she could look down into his face. A sudden thought struck her. "Maybe we missed it!"

"Ari," said Tilion, "Milord Oromë said he'd come get me when it's time. And if he doesn't know where my clearing is, Milord Lorien will tell him." He smiled. "Of course if Milord Oromë forgets…"

"If I forget what?" a voice broke in. "Hullo, Tilion, Arien."

"If you forget to come for me at the time of the Making, Milord," said Tilion as he scrambled to his feet and extended his hand to Arien. "I assume that's why you're here, Milord?" he said as soon as Arien was on her feet.

"Yes, actually," said Oromë, smiling at the young spirit's strong sense of chivalry.

"Let's go, then," said Arien as Tilion slung his bow across his body. "Here's your quiver, Til."

"Thanks, Ari," said Tilion, heading after the rapidly vanishing figure of Oromë. "Come on," he called back over his shoulder, "you don't want to be late, do you?

"Not particularly," said Arien as she picked up her skirts and hurried after Tilion and Oromë.

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Tilion, Arien, and Oromë emerged into a clearing. All the Valar and Maiar were there already. Even Ulmo had come out of his dwelling in the sea to attend the Making. Aulë and Tulkas were lugging a huge cauldron. "Hi, Oromë!" called Aulë. "Could you come and help us with this?" Oromë hurried over to join them.

"Hey, Til, what d'ya think is in that gold cauldron?" whispered Arien.

"Light, my dear. Light from the blazing lakes and pools of brilliance," answered Ulmo, who was standing nearby.

Aulë, Tulkas, and Oromë set down the golden cauldron. "Hey, Tilion!" called Aulë. "Come and help us with the other one!"

"There's _another_ one?" asked Tilion as he followed Oromë Aulë, and Tulkas to get the other cauldron.

"Milord Ulmo, what's to be in the other cauldron?" Arien was quite fond of the kindly water-spirit, who seemed to know all about the Making of the Two Trees.

Ulmo smiled kindly down at the young spirit. "More light, this time rivers of white radiance and silver light. Aulë made the cauldrons while I was off getting the light. That golden one over there --" he nodded towards the first cauldron "-- is called Kulullin. The one Oromë, Aulë, Tulkas, and young Tilion are carrying is called Silindrin," he added as Oromë, Tulkas, Aulë, and Tilion reentered the clearing. This time, the cauldron was a pure silver.

"Wow!" said Arien. "That one looks really neat! Doesn't it, Til?" she asked as Tilion, having set down Silindrin, came to stand beside her.

Tilion was just about to reply when Manwë announced, "Fellow Valar, Maiar, Arien, and Tilion! I have called you together to witness the making of the Two Trees. Shall we begin?"

Several of the Valar and Maiar, among them Mandos and Ossë, came forward and began to dig great pits on opposite sides of the clearing, on either side of the great pool in the centre. When the pits were finished, Ossë came forward. He held three great pearls. "These I cast into the pit, so that the Tree may be as white and beautiful as pearls," and so saying, he cast the pearls into the pit.

Next Varda herself, Elbereth Gilthoniel, Fanuilos, stepped forward. She held a small star, and it shone in her hand. "This star I cast into the pit. Be it that the Tree will give light even fairer than that of the star!" And so saying, she cast the star into the pit.

The Valar and Maiar looked expectantly at Tilion. Tilion was confused. _Am I to give something? _he thought. _I have nothing to give. Except…_He stepped forward. "As it appears that I am to give something, yet have nothing to give, I will give of myself." He abandoned his raiment; suddenly he appeared to be a silver flame, shadowed with the same deep bluish green that was in his eyes. A piece of the flame detached itself and went quietly down into the pit. Tilion took up his raiment again and continued, "May the Tree be silver and deep green; surely it will flourish until we are called back to be with Iluvatar."

As he went back to stand by Arien, he heard murmurs of surprise from the Valar and the Maiar. "The youth did exceptionally well," he heard one voice say; it sounded like Lorien. "I couldn't have done better myself."

He felt a hand grab his arm. "Til, that was amazing!" Arien whispered. "Did you have any idea of what you were supposed to do?"

"No, I didn't, Ari," Tilion said. "I just guessed. And a very lucky guess it was, too." He smiled, although without his usual ardour. He started to turn around to face the pit, but stumbled in the process.

"Til, what's wrong?" Ari asked anxiously.

"Guess I gave a bit too much of myself," Tilion replied weakly, but cheerfully. Noticing her worried look, he added quickly, "I'll be all right in a minute or two. After I sit down." He suited action to words and sat down, leaning back against a handy tree. Arien sat beside him, heedless of the damage done to her dress.

At the pit, Ulmo, Ossë, and Uinen were standing at the edge. Each of them held a deep bowl of bronze. As they poured the contents of the bowls into the pit, Arien caught a glimpse of sea foam. _Of course!_ she thought. _That makes sense. The sea spirits give pearls and sea foam. The Star-Queen gives a star. The Keeper of the Tree gives of himself. Speaking of the Keeper of the Tree…_She glanced over at Tilion. His eyes were closed and he looked slightly pale. Worried, she looked for Estë. Ah, there she was, watching the proceedings with great interest, but taking no part. Arien walked ver to the healer of hurts and weariness. "Milady," she whispered, an undercurrent of worry in her voice, "could you come and take a look at Tilion? He says he's all right, but I know something's wrong."

Estë looked down at the worried young spirit with kindness in her eyes. "Why, of course, dear," she said softly. Arien breathed a sigh of relief and lead the Vala to where Tilion was.

Tilion opened his eyes as the Vala, accompanied by Arien. "Ari," he protested weakly, "I told you I was all right."

"You're right, Arien," said Estë, completely ignoring Tilion's continuing protests, which were rapidly growing weaker. "Something's wrong."

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That's all for today! I haven't even finished handwriting the Making.

The idea of giving part of one's self to the Making of the Tree is completely my own idea. This comes mostly out _The Book of Lost Tales 1_, but even with the order of things in that I've mucked about a bit. It was necessary to have Til give of himself instead of Ari. You'll see as it goes on. 

I'm just guessing at what the Valar and Maiar said as they threw their stuff into the pit where they were making Telpirion. I think what I have them say sounds relatively OK. What about you?

Namarie,

Mac


	4. Fun with Mandos

Back with more of this story.

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Estë knelt down next to Tilion. Placing her hands on his head, she said,  
_"Enquantuva yulmalya._

Tuluvalye nin pelnna!

Gurth u-hiruvalye!

Nai cuiruvalye!

Nin u-lestauvalye."

Tilion's colour became more natural while Estë spoke these words. within a minute, Tilion was out of all danger. Estë shook her head. "That was too close for any comfort. I'll have to speak to Manwë about this." She stood and headed for the lord of the Valar.

Arien turned her attention completely on Tilion. "Til? Are you all right?"

Tilion still looked a bit weaker than usual, but other than that, he was fine. "Thanks to you, Ari, I'm still alive."

Arien, with a bit of mischief in her eyes, said, "Well, I couldn't let you be in the confines of Mandos' halls forever, now, could I?"

Mandos, his back still to them, said, "I heard that," which caused the young spirits to go into gales of laughter.

Lorien popped into the conversation. "Well, Namo, she does have a point." He winked at Arien and Tilion, making them laugh even harder.

Mandos turned, slightly angry. "What do you mean by that, little brother?"

Manwë interposed himself, grinning at the antics of the youths and of Lorien. "Arien, Estë has told me what happened to Tilion. I have decided that it is unnecessary for you to give of yourself. And I agr-er, Lorien, it's time for you to do your singing bit. Arien, you still need to give something."

Arien looked surprised. "If I'm not to give of myself, what can I give?"

Lorien answered, looking back over his shoulder as he followed Manwë. "Hair." Smiling at Arien's confused look, he continued. "It'll do. Just don't be too extravagant like young Tilion here." While Lorien had been talking to Arien, Manwë had stopped to wait for him. Now, still looking over his shoulder, Lorien ran into his king. with an exasperated sigh, and a warning to "Watch where you're going," Manwë continued, with Lorien apologizing profusely.

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That'll do for right now. 

Namarie,

Mac


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